


If We Shadows Have Offended

by ZaliaChimera



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Creepy, Experimental Style, Gen, Horror, Implied Relationships, Metaphors, Shakespeare Quotations, Spoilers, Surreal, Theatre, Weirdness, gratuitous shakespeare
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-10
Updated: 2020-04-10
Packaged: 2021-03-01 16:35:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23570182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZaliaChimera/pseuds/ZaliaChimera
Summary: A stage in the round. A thousand empty seats and every eye upon the actors. All the world's a stage.
Comments: 25
Kudos: 65





	If We Shadows Have Offended

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by my weird feeling that the flashbacks in episodes 161 and 162 feel weirdly staged. Sometimes you just have to get weird and experimental.

**SCENE**

[A stage in the round. Bare and empty and in darkness.]

**THE ARCHIVIST**

(from off stage. His voice is flat and calm)

All the world’s a stage,

And all the men and women merely players;

They have their exits and their entrances;

And one man in his time plays many parts,

His acts being seven ages.

[A spotlight turns on. Several figures surround a bonfire made from wood and crepe paper.]

**THE ARCHIVIST**

At first the infant,

Mewling and puking in the nurse’s arms;

[The figures lean into the fire and pull out a baby. They hold the baby up into the air in an exaggerated expression of worship.

Another spotlight turns on, showing **JONATHAN SIMS** staring at a door. He is an adult but is wearing a school uniform.]

**THE ARCHIVIST**

And then the whining school-boy, with his satchel

And shining morning face, creeping like snail

Unwillingly to school.

[ **JONATHAN SIMS** steps towards the door, hand raised to knock.]

**THE ARCHIVIST**

And then the lover,

Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad

Made to his mistress’ eyebrow. 

[A third spotlight. **TIMOTHY STOKER** is wearing a top hat and ringmaster’s coat. He leans in to kiss the cheek of **SASHA JAMES** on his right. She laughs and pushes him away playfully. He leans in to kiss the cheek of **SASHA JAMES** on his left. She rolls her eyes and pushes him away playfully.]

**THE ARCHIVIST**

Then a soldier,

Full of strange oaths, and bearded like the pard,

Jealous in honour, sudden and quick in quarrel,

Seeking the bubble reputation

Even in the cannon’s mouth.

[Spotlight. **MELANIE KING** and **DAISY TONNER** stand side by side. They whistle a jaunty tune as they dig a grave, tossing dirt across the stage.]

**THE ARCHIVIST**

And then the justice,

In fair round belly with good capon lin’d,

With eyes severe and beard of formal cut,

Full of wise saws and modern instances;

And so he plays his part.

[Spotlight. **GERTRUDE ROBINSON** stands over a pot of wax. She raises a bag that says **SAWDUST** in comically rounded letters, and pours it into the pot.]

**THE ARCHIVIST**

The sixth age shifts

Into the lean and slipper’d pantaloon,

With spectacles on nose and pouch on side;

His youthful hose, well sav’d, a world too wide

For his shrunk shank; and his big manly voice,

Turning again toward childish treble, pipes

And whistles in his sound.

[Spotlight. **JURGEN LEITNER** bleeds and bleeds and bleeds, skull crushed, body cooling. The blood seeps across the floor of the stage.]

**THE ARCHIVIST**

Last scene of all,

That ends this strange eventful history,

Is second childishness and mere oblivion;

Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything.

[Spotlight. **JONAH MAGNUS** sits in the Panopticon. Lungs unmoving, heart unbeating, but he sees all.]

**SCENE**

[The facade of the **MAGNUS INSTITUTE**. **JONATHAN SIMS** climbs the stairs. As he reaches the door, the facade evolves on the stage to reveal **THE ARCHIVES**. **TIMOTHY STOKER** , **MARTIN BLACKWOOD** , **SASHA JAMES** and **SASHA JAMES** are frozen in positions of overdramatic secrecy. When **JON** enters, they throw their hands up and shout.]

**CHORUS**

Surprise!

**TIMOTHY STOKER**

We brought you a cake.

[ **JON** looks genuinely surprised by this, his expression one of shock and fear. He smiles. It is sickly.]

**JONATHAN SIMS**

You really shouldn’t have!

**TIMOTHY STOKER**

[ **TIM** holds out the cake. It has unpalatable green icing. **TIM** ’s makeup is exaggerated, a little like a clown.]

Of course we did, boss! Have to celebrate. Who knows how many more birthdays you’ll get?!

**SASHA JAMES**

One year?

**SASHA JAMES**

Five years?

**TIMOTHY STOKER**

What do you think Martin? Should we cut him a slice?

**MARTIN BLACKWOOD**

[ **MARTIN** speaks but all that can be heard is static. **JON** gives him a panicked look, and reaches out for him, but a plate of cake is thrust into his hands by **SASHA**.]

**SASHA JAMES**

Come on Jon. You didn’t think we’d forget did you?

**SASHA JAMES**

Go on. Eat up.

[ **JON** looks at the cake and picks up the fork slowly and with great reluctance.]

**ELIAS BOUCHARD**

Knock knock!

[ **ELIAS BOUCHARD** enters. He is wearing period clothing from the early 1800s.]

**TIMOTHY STOKER**

Double boss!

**ELIAS BOUCHARD**

Did someone mention cake?

**SASHA JAMES**

It’s Jon’s birthday.

**SASHA JAMES**

It’s polite to bring cake.

**ELIAS BOUCHARD**

Of course. Eat up Jon. Plenty more where that came from.

[The cake in **JON** ’s hands is now a **STATEMENT**. He lifts it to his mouth and takes a bite from the paper. He chews and swallows and tears roll down his cheeks.]

[ **MARTIN BLACKWOOD** steps away from the scene and walks to the edge of the stage, lit by a spotlight. In the background, **JON** continues to eat paper after paper handed to him by **ELIAS BOUCHARD**.

 **MARTIN BLACKWOOD** is wearing a suit that is several sizes too big for him.]

**MARTIN BLACKWOOD**

I always… [Static] …When I was… [Static] …but she never said… [Static] …and then I did and… [Static. Static.]…

I thought that we could… [Static] …and he said… [Static] …we didn’t… [Static.] …Jon… [Static] …Jon I’m scared… [Static] …Jon I can’t… [Static] …I… [Static] … [Static] … [Static Static Static Static Static Static Static Static Static Static Static Static Static Static Static Static Static Static Static Static Static Static Static Static Static Static Static Static Static Static Static Static Static Static Static Static Static Static Static Static Static Static Static Static Static Static Static Static Static Static Static Static Static Static Static Static Static Static Static Static Static Static Static Static Static Static Static Static Static Static Static Static Static Static Static Static Static Static Static Static Static Static Static Static Static Static Static.]

[ **MARTIN** doubles over and coughs. **FOG** falls from his mouth and fills the stage. There is the hiss of smoke machines but all of the fog comes from his mouth.]

[ **JONATHAN SIMS** stands up and walks away from the group and past **MARTIN BLACKWOOD** , choking on the floor. **MARTIN** grasps for him, but he does not notice as he stares out at the audience. **ELIAS BOUCHARD** shadows his movements and stands behind him.]

**JONATHAN SIMS**

I have almost forgot the taste of fears;

[ **ELIAS** rests his hands against **JON** ’s shoulders, and **JON** winces in pain as they dig in.]

The time has been, my senses would have cool'd

To hear a night-shriek; and my fell of hair

Would at a dismal treatise rouse and stir

[ **ELIAS** slides his arms along **JON** ’s until he is moving Jon through the monologue, puppeting him through grand gestures.]

As life were in't: I have supp'd full with horrors;

[ **JON** tries to move, to reach for **MARTIN** but he cannot move except where he is lead.]

Direness, familiar to my slaughterous thoughts

Cannot once start me.

[A click. A thousand clicks as tape recorders turn on and replay stolen applause which echoes around the theatre. Some of the applause sounds wet, or hollow, or plastic, or chitinous, like bones rubbing together, or distant, like someone clapping always out of sight.

The actors head to the centre of the stage. They stand arm in arm, with smiles fixed on their faces and terror in their eyes as they take their bow.]


End file.
